A Study In Influenza
by bluecollarrevolver
Summary: Sherlock is, unlike his usual self, very ill. Despite this he still tries to work and Lestrade is feeding him cases. With his addictions and behaviour become increasingly intolerable John prescribes him some bed rest. Sherlock continues to resist until he can deny his Doctor's orders no longer
1. Chapter 1

Sherlock didn't often get ill but it was clear to see when he did he got it bad. He had never seen Sherlock in such a vulnerable state before. He tried to look away, he didn't mean to stare but he couldn't help it, he just stood there and stared at this fragile broken man. Naturally, as his doctor, John felt obliged to help.

"Come on" John grunted as he tried to lift Sherlock out of his sunken position on the sofa. "What is it this time?"

"This time? John, as my doctor how often do you see me in such a state?" Sherlock spitted.

"As your friend plenty of times, after every case in fact" John retorted. Sherlock collapsed back onto the sofa and let out a great groan as he sunk his face into the tatty cushion.

Sherlock was displaying all the signs of case withdrawal, John thought. Excessively bad attitude, hasn't slept, same dressing gown for four days, same pyjamas for three days. And no doubt patches.

"Roll up your sleeve" John demanded.

"Why should I?"

"You know exactly why! now roll up your sleeves of I will come over there and do it myself"

Sherlock forced himself up from the cushions that surrounded him and pulled up his left sleeve.

"FOUR?!" John shouted in horror "...four" he said with almost no emotion. "Why could you poss-"

"Four patch problem" Sherlock interupted in his usual dry tone.

"What could possibly require _four_ patches? You my friend have a serious problem."

"No problem, John. Lots of nicotine thus problem has gone"

John walked towards his room huffing "I give up, I really do."

"You're dissapointed" Sherlock stated. When it came to these things Sherlock never asked, he knew.

"What do you expect Sherlock? You were doing so, so well and now just because you're bored y-"

"I am _always_ bored John, comes with seeing everything and nothing changing. Now are you going to stand there mothering me, or are you actually going to assist in my getting to my bedroom?" Sherlock hissed with a quickening pace. John smiled smugly, and Sherlock knew exactly what that meant.

"I have influenza John, have done for a few days I've just been ignoring it. My sinus' are slowly closing in, my brain is becoming dehydrated and the blood flow restricted, and now my limbs are ceasing to function as I command them, so yes. _Doctor _John Watson, I require your assistance to get to bed."


	2. Chapter 2

"Well Sherlock...this will only work if you...also...put some effort in" John struggled as he tried to hoist his patient off the sofa. Eventually Sherlock co-operated, but leant heavily on John's low but strong shoulders.

"There we go" John practically threw Sherlock onto the bed.

"Thank you, Doctor" Sherlock hissed once more. As Sherlock lay there sprawled across the bed, John found himself wanting nothing more than to watch him, stroke his hair and make his ill but still, somehow, attractive friend better. On his way out John froze in the doorway. He turned one-eighty and just stood there silently and watched his friend drift off into peace. The peaceful silence was soon broken by the incessant ringing of Sherlock's phone.

"John I think you'd better get that, sounds important" sarcastic as always, Sherlock was all too aware of John's presence in his room.

"How...never mind. No Sherlock no phone calls. You _need _to rest" John couldn't help but patronise him, it was nice to have the control once in a while.

Sherlock tired to force himself off the bed, but only managed to rest on his elbows before collapsing in on himself again, face first into the duvet. He let out an indistinguishable moan which could only mean one thing: 'phone, now'. John to Sherlock's delight went to Sherlock's trench coat hanging on the reverse of his door and reached into the right hand pocket.

"Other John. Inside" Sherlock slurred. John reached into the inside left-hand pocket and pulled out the phone. It was Lestrade.

"Sorry Greg, Sherlock's ill and off duty. Doctor's orders" and with that Sherlock was up, out of bed is a little unstable and had snatched the phone from John before he could even finish his sentence.

"Lestrade...yeah. Yes. Of course. The husband, really? No. Don't be stupid. Yes. _No_. How long? Fine" Sherlock threw his phone on the ground. "BORING!" he flopped back onto the bed.

"In this state you shouldn't leave the house for anything less than a nine an that was...?"

"A six...at best" Sherlock grunted.

"Well then, I guess you're staying put" John gestured towards the bed Sherlock was once again slobbishly dragged across.

"But I need to go out. It a six yes, but that's two up on the last one, and it's been days since anyone vaguely interesting has come my way."

John tried not to be offended. After all he was so used to it, but this time John decided to bite back.

"I'm sure we could have _plenty _of fun at the flat. And no Sherlock I don't mean Cluedo, I never mean Cleudo, not after last time!" After perking up briefly Sherlock flopped back down again.

"Lestrade is on his way. How much fun can I have lying here in five minutes?" Sherlock tried again to get up, this time he was very unsteady on his feet.

"Woah woah woah. Easy. Eeeeeasy" John caught his friend and placed him gently back on the bed. Sherlock resisted his friend's attempt at help and tried t push him aside in order to ease himself back up. Only he has underestimated John's strength.


	3. Chapter 3

"I was a soldier Sherlock, I know how to hold someone down" John said, pinning Sherlock to his sheets, a smug grin spread across his face as Sherlock's feeble attempts to move him failed miserably.

Suddenly John felt a strange sensation in the pit of his stomach, It was a feeling he was all too familiar with, but not one he was accustomed to associating with this sort of situation, or indeed with Sherlock. He found himself staring at his friend at such close proximity it would be considered rude, not that Sherlock even vaguely understood rudeness, or personal boundaries. Sherlock's eyes, John thought, were not as cold and calculating as first presumed. But instead John was presented with a vast array of sapphires, jades, and diamonds, gazing back at him with such a need, such a longing. And what of his friend's mouth, so perfectly formed, _so soft_ he imagined _how dangerous_. A cupid's bow so elegant Da Vinci himself could not have mastered it.

_Stop it!_ John told himself. He quickly pulled himself out of his daze and back off of his friend. At first Sherlock did not loosen his grip on the hands that held him so firmly in his place. John hesitated. Should he linger and wait and want for the impossible? Or pull away, allow his dear friend to sleep and save himself the embarrassment.

"John..." his thoughts were interrupted.

"I'm here Sherlock" John said with such tenderness, freeing his right hand only to stroke Sherlock's perfectly tousled locks.

"I am aware of that John, and as much as I enjoy an audience, during my resting period it is not necessary nor desired, and will undoubtedly prevent me from actually resting, thus render this time utterly useless"

John felt all the blood in his body rush to his face, burning ever fragment of him on the way. That initial feeling of excitement in his stomach quickly transformed into something else. He stood up briskly and turned a one-eighty on his heels. He daren't look back on his way out, but he could feel Sherlock's smug grin burning the hairs on the back of his neck.

"Boys, you really need to get this doorbell fixed" cried Mrs Hudson in her usual flustered manner.

"I told Greg, Sherlock is off duty" John snapped. "Sorry. Sorry. But he needs to rest" John gestured over to Sherlock's room. Mrs Hudson peeked through the door and raised one hand to her chest.

"I've never seen him so peaceful" she said. Right on cue Sherlock let out a loud grunt and rolled himself up in his duvet before throwing it, and nearly himself on the floor.


	4. Chapter 4

"I can't sleep when there's a case John!" he grunted.

"Well it was nice while it lasted. I'll tell the detective inspector to leave you be. Perhaps a nice cup of tea will calm him down" Mrs Hudson said, gesturing towards Sherlock.

"BORED" Sherlock shouted. "Being ... _this _is boring, being tired is WRONG. I. NEED. TO. WORK" he threw one of his books at the door, narrowly missing Mrs Hudson and hitting John square in the jaw.

"Stupid BASTARD!" John shouted as he slammed the door behind him. Mrs Hudson let out a scared shriek and shuffled over to Lestrade standing in the doorway.

"Lover's tiff?"

"Just piss off Greg" John hissed.

"You two are more alike every day. But fine. When he's up to it tell him it's a new case, and this one's at least an eight. One of the-"

"FIVE AT BEST" Sherlock interrupted from his room, the sound although muffled slightly still billowed through the flat.

"Right, well... if he doesn't take this case Anderson's going to be all over it and we all know how that turns out" Lestrade smiled in the direction of Sherlock's room, but his smugness was quickly disturbed.

"Yes Greg, thank you. Let's not provoke the beast, OK?" He ushered him out of the door "I'm sorry Greg, off duty. Doctor's orders' John said, bored of repeating himself.

"Look, if you two just want some alone ti-"

"Goodbye Greg" John slammed the door in his face. He wearily shuffled back towards his room, first checking on Sherlock. he slowly snuck his head round the door so as not to wake him.

"The _beast_ does not require nor want and audience. Goodnight John" in his usual surly tone. He rolled over to turn his back to John, who took the hint and left immediately.

A few days passed and Sherlock's condition worsened, as did his temper. He ranged everything from needy and obsessive to dismissive and nonchalant. John was a patient man but was struggling to deal with it. "Sherlock, you haven't left your bed for over thirty-six hours"

"Well observed John. Counting down the hours until you can pin me in my place again?"

"I...erm...for fucks sake, just take a shower already" John snapped, flustered after Sherlock's previous comment.

"Oh and now you're trying to get me undressed? I'm flattered John but I really thought you'd be more subtle. Then again, subtlety never really was your strong point. Why do you think all your girlfriends have left?" Sherlock sneered.

"Because _you_ are such an asshole to them. All of them" John snapped

"I was trying to make them more interesting, besides maybe...if there weren't...so many...of th-"

Despite his friend's current lack of current hygiene, John was happy for him to have dosed off. Clearly his temper had worn him out.


End file.
